


Jardin Cifrado

by VidarsVixens



Category: Ylvis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, F/M, Lust, Sexual exploration, Voynich, where Vegard is a priest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-22
Updated: 2014-10-22
Packaged: 2018-02-22 04:59:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2495315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VidarsVixens/pseuds/VidarsVixens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was written as a bedtime story for a friend. It amuses me to think of the male character as being played by Vegard Ylvisåker. I think it all happens in Spain.<br/>~ Elaine Weber</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jardin Cifrado

The girl knelt hands folded. She was supposed to be praying and in a way maybe she was. The smell of the wood that formed the altar and pews blended with the smell of the roses, some fresh and bright and some older and sweet scented. Her heavy lids and dark lashes hid her slitted gaze as her eyes followed the curve of the wing of an angel, the flicker of candle flame. 

Her attention was seized by movement off to her right. A young priest with short dark curls bumbled into the small chapel. His nose in a leatherbound book, he did not see that he was intruding upon her solitude.Between she and the altar he strode, engrossed in the matter of his reading. Silent as smoke she broke her prayerful position and quickly stalked up behind the young man so close she could see into his book, though she could not make out the words. She could smell the lingering scent of the herb garden about him, longed to tuck an errant curl behind his elfin ear.Though she kept her voice to a low humming whisper he jumped when she spoke suddenly inches away from his glossy dark curls. His hands flew up and he fumbled the book, only just catching it and losing his space in it.

"What are you reading?" she repeated when he had not comprehended the first time she asked.

"well… you see... I...I...I don't a-a-a-actually know." He stammered in explanation. She looked quizzically at him. “Look,” he said, opening the book so that she could see it and holding it at arms length. Now that his nose was not so close to the pages he blinked a few times before reaching into a breast pocket and retrieving a pair of stout reading glasses and slipping them on.

"See? This is called the Voynich Manuscript. No one knows what it says or means." He showed her a page, looked closer, and hurriedly flipped to a different picture. The girl grew interested and began flipping through the pages. She grew excited and started noticing things she thought she recognized. "Well, could that be a sunflower?” she asked. “What are these words that look like names?" The young priest or friar or scribe or whatever also grew animated and surrendered the book to her that he may gesticulate with his hands and arms, at one point even bending at the knees and jumping up with his hands stretched above his head to describe the enormity of the sunflowers he had just been examining in the church gardens.

"I cannot take you to the gardens the Fathers keep," he told the girl “but, there is a college with a fine botanical garden where I could bring you. Would you go and examine some of the plants there with me?" As he spoke his face pinked up around the cheekbone, making him look even younger and more delicate. His glasses fogged, so he took them off and rubbed them on his shirt.

They agreed to meet there at the college the very next day. Though they had not touched, his herby musky scent clung to her all day and made her dream of hunting and being prey, of soft warm leaf fall beneath tall madrona trees.

She roused herself in the morning and bathed carefully before making her excuses and trotting of with a bag of papers and a stolen pencil that she planned to sketch on. She hoped they found exciting things in that garden.

When she found him beneath the chestnut tree his eyes drank her in. This one could not hide his emotions, and that could be dangerous as well as useful. He too had had fevered dreams of serpentine limbs and dark warm moistness.

Together they began by trying to follow the leads of yesterday, but Voynich spoke to neither of them that day. Baser animal lusts washed away the intellectual fires and mired them in fecund saline marshes. The pair feigned small talk all the while restraining themselves from reaching out and curling as ivy around the other's body. It was only a matter of time before they were blindly guided by the arrows of Kama to a secluded corner shielded from view of window or pathway, sound dampened by the play of water in a small fountain nearby.

His eyes were deep brown reflecting pools, stealing here a streak of leaf green, here a flash of sun glimmer. No longer could she stop herself from pressing her body against his. When his hands touched her they were rough, not like other scholars. He had hands that knew of dirt and stem, of ax and of flesh.

But he was gentle in his hunger. Giving soft caresses where they would elicit the most excitement, and firmer touch where it was sure to squeeze the juices right out of her. She explored him from the center out, getting her hands inside his shirt and onto his belly, around his taught back. His hips swiveled into her.

"I want to do things to you." he growled into her neck. "We must find someplace to go." She knew a place. They buttoned and straightened each other and discussed where to meet and left the college separately.

There was a kitchen where the maid worked. All the bakers would be finished with their labors now and gone. Later in the afternoon the girl would let herself into the kitchen and prepare things for the bakers and icers who came in and worked all night long. Breathless they reunited at the back door and she let herself in.

They tumbled in and found a perfect pile of sacking cloths to lay each other down upon. They would be covered in flour later, and they both knew it, but at the moment their wild fury of desire seemed an undeniable and intelligent force. They did not attempt to decode this mystery, but let it drive and protect them. Their hands found flesh to plunge into, to press and bring to ripe bursting. Their eyes locked as two white-hot iron bars will meld. She opened to him her nectar filled lotus, and he plunged into her, first with the satisfying friction of his rough fingers, and soon after with his manhood pumped full of desire. His stamina was remarkable and he toyed with her, now thrusting hard and fast, now withdrawing and drinking the sight of her squirming.

He put his fingers in her again and slipped her own taste into her mouth. She responded fully to everything he did and became his humble student, gasping and moaning and begging when he told her to. He stirred her up until he decided she should bubble over, and executed her explosion to match with his own.

As they lay panting upon the flour bags that the girl would dutifully launder in the course of her evening’s work they each caught their breath and lay sweet kisses upon the the other's dusty forms.

"I've always..." he breathed, "I've always wanted to try that."


End file.
